


By Sight, By Scent

by lizziecrowe



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst, Drama, First Times, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 10:20:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/797311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizziecrowe/pseuds/lizziecrowe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A moment, magnified.</p>
            </blockquote>





	By Sight, By Scent

## By Sight, By Scent

#### by Miraden

Author's website: <http://www.geocities.com/silverpheonixscion>  
Slightly disturbing if endearing content. Viewer discretion. aw what the heck. Enjoy!  
Thanks to Dara for her wonderful Beta efforts.  
Spoilers for the Pilot, but if you don't get it by now, please don't blame me.  
This story is a sequel to: 

* * *

"-you little hippie witchdoctor punk!" And I can feel the bones cracking as he hits the wall. Not that I care. He brought it on himself, calling me some kind of primitive throwback, stupid little fuck. What does he know? He doesn't know me, the hell I've been through, the hell this whole thing is. Probably land me in a loony bin now, and maybe that's just where I belong 

Until my eyes go weird. I can't see straight at all, and I sort of lean into him, and I hear his lungs complain about the weight, but I can't stop it. I can't breath either, and it's so hard to stand, but something about this place makes me dizzy, makes me cold. So cold, and Sandburg is so warm. A human fucking blast furnace, and he's right there, and I can't help soaking in that heat, leaning that one step further into him, letting him drop from my grip just a touch, like a single drop of water dripping down the roughened brick. Soft throat against my face, and I can feel his swallow and struggle to breathe. Feel his pulse like a river just beneath my cheek. I can't even begin to pull back. 

One deep breath. It's all I can mange, and in that moment I feel like a floodgate opens inside me, letting me, for just a moment, go. Just fucking go. God, so good to just breathe 

My nose tickles as his long, curly hair brushes past. What is that scent? Something so familiar yes, there it is. Sandalwood. Carolyn used to burn it, stupid incense. Used to hate it so much, but on him, it smells right. He smells right, better than fresh baked bread right out of the oven. Better than the jungle just after it rains. So perfect, so alive 

Mmmmmmmm.. 

Oh yeah, he does taste good. So smooth and rich and fragrant, he tastes just like I knew he should. He tastes just like home. 

He WHAT?!! 

A stab of ice shoots down my back, freezing the blood in my veins into crystal ice cubes I seriously can feel. My grip doesn't change even as I try to pull away, but suddenly he's moving, reaching out to me, holding me right where I am. Against him, with him, and I do not need to be told twice. I dive back in, more than glad to take another helping of this incredible man. 

Never had a thing for guys before. Oh sure, the Army was a study in lacks of privacy and modesty, and there were moments when I did take comfort in a fellow soldier, especially right before we reached mission objective. That last night, when we weren't sure who was coming back alive and who was being sent home in a box, we would hold tight, giving each of us that last gift, that one final bond that made us brothers in arms. Brothers in each other's arms, and it sounds so corny, but even now I don't regret it. Every touch meant something, meant that we would never be forgotten, or left behind so long as one of us lived. And that no matter what, we always had each other. 

And the nights we came back were just as bad. That first night, back in the barracks, there were four of us. The best of the best in the field, and the worst when it came to coming down off the high. We were the leaders, but every time we came back, we snuck out, met in the same spot at the same time. Every time, like clockwork. 

Deep in the backwoods, where no one would see or hear, we four broke down, reaching out to each other, just needing to feel like it was over, like we were safe again. I went out there to be the touchstone for my friends, but I never partook in that way. I touched, and I was touched, but it didn't mean to me what it meant to them. They needed it for the safety. I needed to give them that feeling, that security, to know that I could still protect my men, even after the battle was over. 

And then Peru took that away from me, and it tore a hole in me that I knew I would never heal. 

But here, with this man, it feels so different. I need to protect this man, I know that much. I need to keep him safe, but not for the same reasons. I need him safe so that he can be just like this. Between me and that insane something that's always been there, just out of reach, haunting me, looking over my shoulder and just waiting until I let my guard down. So I never let it down, never let myself relax. And it's not about my senses, and I wonder now if it ever will be. It's about the rest of the damn world, thinking I'm a freak, thinking I'm this amazing hero and I'm not. Thinking period. Always thinking, assuming they know me, but they don't know me. 

Need someone to know me. Need someone to be my grounding, to guide me back when I've got nowhere left to run 

And then I feel it. Deep, thick liquid brushing across my lips, and then the sweet, coppery flavor. A little bitter, mixed with my need, which even now I can't believe is even real. 

Little noise, almost distant reaches out to me, touches my ears so softly that I barely hear it. But it's him, and trust me, he's coming in loud and clear on every fucking channel. And he's whimpering, and I know that taste. Blood. His blood, in my mouth. God, he even tastes good on the inside, so fucking insane. I pull back just a little, and he gasps. His head lolls to one side, giving me a full view of his throat and what I've done. Two half moon marks, made up of these odd little circles cup his throat so perfectly. It makes me jealous. How come they get to stay behind on him when I have to let go? 

But then I see it. The tooth I broke as a child, there, on his neck, pushed into his skin until it drew back red and left it's mark My Mark. My God, what have I done? 

My stomach reels as I let him down further, my body adamantly refusing to let go of what I last ate, my mind lost in the sight of the carnage that is Blair Sandburg's neck. At my hand. My mouth. I can still taste him, so sweet 

My legs buckle when his feet hit the floor, sending me to my knees, my face dragging the full length of him, right down to his navel when our heights finally line up. And he's still holding me, keeping me close, and I know I'll be here a while, even if he doesn't. And I don't know if he cares, but I wrap my arms around his thighs and that tight, sweet ass, just breathing him in, filling my pores with everything he is. 

"Chief" God, I hope I don't sound as needy as I think I do. I can't possibly be that pathetic, can I? Yet here I am, on my knees before this man that I've known for less than a day, begging that he let me stay right here. Need him. Need him to know me, to understand. Need his shelter. God, I've never been this desperate for anything in my- 

"I know, Jim." And I can't understand what he means until he's right in front of me, eye to eye, and I have no idea how that happened, but I realize that I really don't care as he wraps his arms around my neck and pulls me back down to my perch on his neck. And now it smells so new, just like it tasted before, sweet and bitter and coppery, and I reach out to taste, only to have that flavor laced with something so amazing, I know now I must be dreaming. And it's not his taste, or his smell, or even his touch that makes what few thoughts I have left fuzzy. It's his voice, and I can feel it rumble just beneath my tongue, shaking to the core of me as I shiver right alongside it, hanging on his every heartbeat, his every breath as I lick his flesh clean. 

"Guess that means you're willing to listen now." 

* * *

End 

By Sight, By Scent by Miraden: aladyofserenity@hotmail.com  
Author and story notes above.

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